Euphemism
He's a father-in law and a home-mutiny silencer
Sometimes henpecked and dud
Times and times pro-wife and pro-daughter-in-law
Killing splitter, splitting-killer
She's a mother-in- law tormented and tortured
Turned in revenge impatient and wild
Familial tigress, home-killer
Erroneous enactor dramatising laughter
He's a son, husband and a sweet knife
Patting wife in dark light
Chopping in day-white for her re-birth
Silent non-repaired inmate
She's a wife and a smiling grief
Patient on her final night
For her eleventh hour relief
Unwanted non-residential implement, insurgent..
Life has an immortal satan breaching morals
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Related quotes
Family life
At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...
Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife
Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also
Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife
For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for
Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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I'm My Own Grandpa
It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.
This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.
Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.
I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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SILENT KILLER...by Talile Ali
7 bar intro
Am
STRESS WILL KILL YOU
IT WILL THRILL YOU
IT WILL FILL YOU
WITH THE DREAD G/D
Am
STRESS WILL HURT YOU
BOUND AND DIRT YOU
DRIVE YOU TILL YOU
ARE ALL DEAD G/D
D Am
SILENT AS A VIPER
G Am
DEALIER THAN A SCHEME
D Am
ALWAYS ON YOUR SHOULDER
G Am
NEVER PLAYING CLEAN
F - SILENT KILLER
C - THAT'S IT'S WAY
G - STRESS WILL BEST YOU
Am - TAKE YOUR LIFE AWAY
F - SILENT KILLER
C - ONE THE MOVE TODAY
G- WORK YOUR CONSCIOUS
- TILL YOU DIE AWAY- Am
Am - SILENT KILLER
JAM for 7 bars
F/C
COULD BE A WIFE WHO SCREAMS AND YELLS
G/Am
COULD BE A MAN WHO'S LIVING A HELL
COULD BE A CHILD WHO'S NEVER SAID A WORD
COULD BE A FRIEND WHO IS TOTALLY ABSURD
COULD BE THE PEOPLE YOU KNOW AND LOVE
COULD BE A LOT OF THINGS THAT COME FROM ABOVE
COULD BE YOU COMING OVER TO SEE ME
COULD BE A LIFE OF WHAT COULD BE
Am
SILENT KILLER
poem by Talile Ali
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At Bay
Wife
Reach out your arms, and hold me close and fast.
Tell me there are no memories of your past
That mar this love of ours, so great, so vast.
Husband
Some truths are cheapened when too oft averred.
Does not the deed speak louder than the word?
(dear God, that old dream woke again and stirred.)
Wife
As you love me, you never loved before?
Though oft you say it, say it yet once more.
My heart is jealous of those days of yore.
Husband
Sweet wife, dear comrade, mother of my child,
My life is yours by memory undefiled.
(it stirs again, that passion brief and wild.)
Wife
You never knew a happier hour than this?
We two alone, our hearts surcharged with bliss,
Nor other kisses, sweet as my own kiss?
Husband
I was a thirsty field, long parched with drouth;
You were the warm rain, blowing from the south.
(But, ah, the crimson madness of her mouth!)
Wife
You would not, if you could, go down life’s track
For just one little moment and bring back
Some vanished rapture that you miss or lack?
Husband
I am content. You are my life, my all.
(One burning hour, but one, could I recall;
God, how men lie when driven to the wall!)
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Togetherness Is Gone
My wife,
Stop cleaning the house
Please come here
To accompany me
My husband,
The house is dirty
We aren't able to pay the maid
You've already retired
My wife,
Don't cook
It's a holiday
Let us eat outside the home
My husband,
Don't eat outdoors
We need efficient
You've already retired
My wife,
Let's keep me company
Why the rush to sleep
It's still early
My husband,
I have to get up early
To clean the house
And prepare breakfast
My wife,
I have to go this morning
My friends were waiting
Long we don't meet
My husband,
Be careful on the road
Greetings for your friends
But, why not breakfast?
My wife,
You have fallen asleep last night
I see you sleeping soundly all
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I'm sorry
I don't welcome you home
But, why should sleep on the sofa?
My wife,
I have to go again
I have social activities
With my old friends
My husband,
Don't forget dinner at home
You look very dapper
Although not wear perfume
My wife,
sorry, we were very busy
I had dinner with friends
Happy dinner, dear
My husband,
I woke up too early
But you're not at home
Where are you?
My wife,
I came home at midnight
I have to go early in the morning
I don't have the heart to wake you
My husband,
I just finished washing clothes
I've found the clothes that you wear today
But, why the smell of perfume?
poem by Hasanudin Sofyan
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Pretty woman
Pretty woman.
But wife is beautiful.
Pretty woman is hot.
But wife is the sexiest.
Pretty woman is just for sex.
But a wife is to make love.
Wife is a forbidden fruit.
To you and all.
and wife is more caring.
Be at home and by her husband.
and wife is the husband diamond.
And the husband love making love to her.
That no other women can.
Make him feel so good.
and her husband always in love.
With her.
And wife is the husband success.
Loving and warm full happiness.
She bears our children. And
She is the most gifted darling.
poem by See Fee Lee
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On Joe White's Ninetieth Birthday
So many he knew in his younger years to life have come and gone
But like the great man that he is Joe White keeps on keeping on
Ten years short of his century in his ninetieth year of life
I remember him and his daughter daughter Bibi and his now long deceased wife.
He and his wife and daughter went to live in America many decades ago
But they returned to Ballydaly to live amongst old friends they did know
He has done his share of travelling but the love of home is strong
And he is back in Tubber where he feels he does belong.
One of the elder citizens of the Parish of Millstreet
He is as nice a person as one could wish to meet
I have fond memories of him and of his ready smile
He is one of those nice people that I've not seen for some-while.
In the Wallis Arms in Millstreet Town for him a surprise party where a great night was had by all
And I bet at the happy gathering old times they did recall
Joe White has turned ninety and enjoying his lengthy life span
And it truly can be said of him that he is a gentleman.
poem by by unknown author
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Ode to my love, my Wife
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
I got you how! Wow! My splendid fate
I can’t believe, this fortune so great
Of your father, you were an ardent fan
But finally of your life, I became your man!
It was worth the wait, whatever I had to strive
To impress you and make you my wife!
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
‘Of opposites’ we are pair
Me dark and you very fair
You are organized and meticulous
I am disorganized though spontaneous
My poetic instincts you do admire
But my helping hand in the kitchen, is what you aspire!
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
As if I am a kid, me with care you look after
You gave me my sweet daughter
Anagha, our purpose of life, our treasure
Filling our life with joy and laughter
As Success, whatever I have achieved,
To Your Presence in my life, they are ascribed
Renu, my dear wife
My sweet heart, love of my life
I don’t know, whether I could become your Hero
But, without you in my life, I am a big Zero!
In all ups and down of life, you’ve supported me!
Sweet heart, on this wedding anniversary
Instead of dress, gold or diamond jewelry
I gift you, filled with all my love, this poetry!
(Wrote this to gift to my wife! Today is our wedding anniversary!)
21.04.2009
Lillie of the Snowstorm
To his home, his once white, once lov'd cottage,
Late at night, a poor inebriate came;
To his wife, the waiting wife and daughter
Who for him had fann'd the midnight flame.
Rudely met, they answer'd him with kindness --
Gave him all their own untasted store;
'Twas but small, and he with awful curses,
Spurn'd the gift, and drove them from the door.
While the storm, the wild wild wintry tempest,
Swept across the prairies cold and white;
What a shame that Lillie and her mother
Were abroad on such a fearful night!
Far across the prairie stood a dwelling,
Where from harm they oft had found retreat;
Thither now, all brave and uncomplaining,
Did they urge their weary, wayworn feet.
But their strength, unequal to their courage,
Fail'd them as they wander'd to and fro;
Till at last, the feeble, fainting mother,
Speechless sank upon the drifted snow.
Lillie prays -- the harps are hush'd in Heaven --
Angels poise them midway in the sky;
Up from earth there comes a wail of sorrow,
Such a wail as must be heard on High.
"Father dear! my other, better Father!
Won't you hear your daughter Lillie pray?
Won't you send some strong and careful angel,
Who will help my mother on her way?"
Morning dawns -- the husband and the father,
Sober'd now, to seek his flock has come;
Lillie dear is living, but her mother --
Hours ago, an angel bore her home.
Ah, poor man! how bitter is his anguish,
As he now repents his punish'd sins,
Bending o'er the child, who, half unconscious,
Sadly cries, "Please father, let us in!"
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Wedding Band
Joey Wedding Band
JoAnn was the birth name of my wife
To me Joey was her name for a lot of our married life
One of the best things anyone could ask for in life
Is to have a good and loving wife
When it comes time for me to pass no matter day or night
I hope and pray that my wife will be my guiding light
I did not complement my wife as much as I could of
But with all my heart I gave her my love
My wife is in heaven watching over our family
Hoping we could be the best we could be
I am now living by myself and on my own
I have my dogs and my family but I feel alone
I never thought I knew how bad pain could ever be
Until my wife died and left me
At times my wife lets me know she is near
She turns off the picture frame to let me know she is here
On a chain around my neck I wear my wife’s wedding band
I also still wear mine on the finger of my left hand
To anyone who reads this poem do not let the time with your family go
Everything is gone before you know
poem by Michael Gelb
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When I stopped at home one day
Early in the morning
I gave the children food
and a goodbye kiss
to my still sleeping wife.
At times I dropped them
at school
and turned with the road
to the highway
to get to work
and when I stopped at home one day
there were no children
that came running out,
no wife knocking
at the outside door
and all the dogs were suddenly silent
and life took
its own course
and every thing
had passed just too quickly.
poem by Gert Strydom
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To express
A submissive wife is a strict mother.
A henpecked husband is a terror.
A pampered son is a gut less lot.
A shy daughter is a straying lot.
Each takes another venue to express.
07.07.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Are You a Good Husband?
All married men want to be called a good husband
A good husband is a decent husband
Mr. Husband what you done to deserve this decency?
Has your wife ever referred to you as her good husband?
It is known that the eyes cannot see itself
Unless by reflection. Have you ever asked
Your wife for a performance appraisal
Honey, how did I perform last year?
On a scale of one to ten, one for very poor
Ten for excellent, how did I perform?
Your wife may think you are now on new drugs
If you receive less than six, you need to
Start fence mending before it is too late
A good husband sees his wife as his friend
A nice husband treats his wife as his lover
A decent husband regards his wife as a soul-mate
You should anticipate what your wife
Will need before she makes any request
By the way, have you ever bought a gift
For your wife without an occasion?
Do you have to wait for her birthday?
To inform her that she is very special to you?
Do you have to wait for your wedding anniversary?
To tell her that she is the best thing in your life
When last did you talk to your wife in-laws?
When last did you visit your wife in-laws?
What have you done to be called a good husband?
Ask for performance appraisal on a regular basis
Remember, if you make your wife happy
You will get happiness in return
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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The Price Of Dead Love
His marriage is over but he has no tears
For the woman he was married to for just over two years
Though he miss his baby daughter when he comes home from work at night
In his marriage she was his one source of delight.
She is with his ex wife her mother who lives with her new man
And for him in her life his ex has only one plan
That he pay his alimony to her on Friday of every week
They no longer have common ground on which to speak.
On their wedding day he thought 'twould be for life
He was so in love with his beautiful wife
But just after two years of marriage love between them is dead
That the ways of love can be fickle no truer words said.
That his ex wife has left him for another he finds that as okay
But he misses his baby daughter when he comes home from work every day
That life has it's ups and downs it's always been this way
And the price of dead love it can be high to pay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Stream of Gaiety Vavroovahana Patra
Wife’s sweet conversation is an ocean of merriement;
Is a brook of enchantment.
In despair husband is happy with her consolation;
Kisses, congratulates, frees tension.
Husband derives profound peace with embracement;
She is tranquil as the distant firmament.
Her innocence allures day and night;
She is an ever flowing rivulet of delight.
Wife is a Heavenly Beauty;
In solitude provides delight.
Is the Queen of the night;
The kiss is a stream of gaiety.
Wife plays with passion;
Is the creator of creation.
Is a good advisor;
Is the sweet lovely mother.
Wife’s vermillion is the symbol of chastity;
In husband’s eyes she is a Deith.
On Earth she is a peerless Beauty;
In husbands lap lives with delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Two Sons
I HAVE two sons, wife—
Two, and yet the same;
One his wild way runs, wife,
Bringing us to shame.
The one is bearded, sunburnt, grim, and fights across the sea,
The other is a little child who sits upon your knee.
One is fierce and cold, wife,
As the wayward deep;
Him no arms could hold, wife,
Him no breast could keep.
He has tried our hearts for many a year, not broken them; for he
Is still the sinless little one that sits upon your knee.
One may fall in fight, wife—
Is he not our son?
Pray with all your might, wife,
For the wayward one;
Pray for the dark, rough soldier, who fights across the sea,
Because you love the little shade who smiles upon your knee.
One across the foam, wife,
As I speak may fall;
But this one at home, wife,
Cannot die at all.
They both are only one; and how thankful should we be,
We cannot lose the darling son who sits upon your knee!
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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No More Living Dead, Zombie Kids
What do you think you are doing
to these kids?
Please stop destroying these kids' minds!
Are you that cold-hearted?
Don't you care?
Maybe you don't. But I do.
Don't you remember back when
you had feelings
for your wife, girlfriend,
husband, boyfriend,
mother, father,
grandma, grandpa,
or brother or sister, or friend?
So please let these kids
live a normal life
instead of being the living dead zombies.
Let the boys be boys
Let the girls be girls.
Let them show feelings,
show emotions, show love.
I want to hear their laughter,
hear them chatter kids talk.
I want to see them play,
run, learn, just having fun.
Let these kids live and grow
a normal life.
They could be the future mother,
future father,
future husband, wife,
future author, writer or a poet,
future president,
future owner of a company,
future farmer, future teacher, etc....
But they can't
if you keep on feeding them
with these killer drugs.
Please for once listen to somebody
even me.
You know who I'm talking to...
it's you the one who sells
and manufactures
cocaine, crank, LSD, marijuana,
acid, etc....
Maybe it's too late for you
to live a normal life
But don't let it
be too late for the kids
if you really care.
Please no more living dead,
zombie kids.
poem by Noreen Ann Jenkins
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On The Front Line
I am a fireman here at home
And I put my life on the front line everyday
To save the people from burning buildings
Or from car accidents
Someday I am very lucky because I am able to save people from burning
Buildings and car accidents
But other days I am not so lucky because it depends where the fire is on The building
Sometimes I have to climb all the way to the top of the buildings
Very fast to save the people from the burning buildings here at home
Other times the fire on the buildings happened on the lower floor
Yes there had been times that I could not save the people from the
Buildings here at home because the buildings here at home had been Engulfed with smoke and all the people that live there died
Yes that was a very bad scene to see
At the end of the night I go home for my kids and my wife
When I arrive home my kids and my wife are already sleeping in bed
I don't have very much time to spend with my children
Because of my work
I don't enjoy being a fireman but the pay is good
So I don't have anything to complain about
I never talk about my work at home
At home I talk about different things to my wife and kids
But I know that my day starts very early everyday
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Fell Deed
a fell deed this night,
in the silent dark,
a dagger flashes,
and blood flows.
a fell deed this night,
done in candlelight,
the knife does fall,
as the victim tumbles.
a fell deed this night,
only a slight,
to the killer,
who doth run.
a fell deed this night,
running he be,
through the slight light,
a corner he turns.
a fell deed this night,
a bang a shot,
a gun doth drop,
a killer killed.
a fell deed this night,
a new killer laughs,
an evil sound.
a fell deed this night.
poem by Baden Ronie
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Justice...
We can never create a single life,
So we shouldn't have right to take it,
But what is going on all around a society,
Some psychotic man have been serial killer,
Some are killing people for so called revenge,
Some are killing as a victim of a situation,
Intentionally and unintentionally we are killing,
Now any one can say that for this we have laws,
But what is our law doing in the sake of justice?
Hanging a person, or electrocuting him on a chair,
In the name of painless death injecting poisons,
But are not these the way of killing a person?
Are not these the excuses to hide our failures?
This is us, Who give birth these sick murderers,
This is us, who let a man to be a killer,
Whatever that is, so called legal or illegal,
Are not these both killing processes sin?
Are not these bot about taking a life?
Can we say this justice a justice,
Which allows to take a life empowering a badge?
Think man...Humanity is crying in the door of justice...
poem by Kafil Uddin Raihan.
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